


Brotherly Support

by KnightApparent



Series: General Turboslut [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin is a blabbermouth, Anakin mentioned, Bacara mentioned, Bly mentioned, Cody is unamused, Gen, M/M, Ponds mentioned, Wolffe has his revenge for Cody routinely being a shit, Wolffe is a shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightApparent/pseuds/KnightApparent
Summary: Cody gets a call from a brother eager to congratulate him on his marriage.





	Brotherly Support

“So I hear congratulations are in order.”

Cody groaned, hand twitching as he contemplated ending the call. He’d only answered because it was Wolffe aka the most boring and serious brother he had.  _ Supposedly _ . Ever since General Skywalker (fekking loud ass blabbermouth who wouldn’t know a secret if it ran up and slapped him with a handful of sand) somehow found out that he and General Kenobi were married, the stupid barve had been telling everyone within shouting distance, and Cody’s fellow clone officers were absolutely delighted by the news. 

He’d heard from Bly, banged up and bruised and shebs deep in a siege with the most shit-eating grin Cody had ever seen. How the bastard found the time to tease him while he was being blown the hell up would never cease to be a source of astonishment.

He’d heard from Gree, who held him hostage for over an hour while he whined about how the little green troll he called a Jedi wouldn’t stop fussing about General Kenobi and his attachments, and really didn’t Cody have better sense than that? 

He’d heard from Ponds, the traitor, who’d simply kept calling back every time he hung up and laughing long and loud. Barve. 

Bacara tried comming him, but by this point he was too wise to his brothers’ nonsense and simply rejected the call, sending a terse message that said if he had something important to say he could send it via text. Stupid dick had texted back, “I bet you cried at every wedding.” 

He  _ hated _ them. So much. There was a war on and they apparently had so much free time they could spend it bothering him. 

“Not you too, Wolffe,” he said, resigning himself to the inevitable and setting the datapad full of (unsigned! And likely to never get signed if he knew anything about General Kenobi) reports and regarding his brother with an unamused eye. Wolffe smirked at him, entirely too pleased with himself and the situation.

“Don’t get testy with me, little brother, I’m just trying to support you.” Cody rolled his eyes. Yeah fekking right. 

“Your birth number is higher than mine, di’kut; you’re not older than me. We were decanted at the same time,” he narrowed his eyes at the slightly grainy image of Wolffe on his screen. His brother was reclining against his bunk, in a tent somewhere likely. Like Bly, he’d apparently decided to annoy him in the middle of a war zone. Cute, “and don’t think I don’t know this isn’t payback for that time I hacked into your ship’s intercom and programmed it to howl every time you walked through a door.” 

Wolffe’s smile was razor sharp. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Sure he didn’t, and Cody was the karking Queen of Naboo. 

He groaned again, the sound more akin to a shout of rage as he muffled it in his pillow. Wolffe chuckled, and Cody could hear him shifting as he got comfortable. Great. He hoped the bastard was enjoying watching his poor brother suffer. 

“Does no one but me actually work around here?” Cody grumbled, and Wolffe snorted. 

“Sure we do, but that doesn’t mean we can’t take time out to enjoy life's little pleasures as well. You certainly have. Twenty times,” he wasn’t looking, but he could vividly see the way Wolffe was condescendingly shaking his head as he tsked, and Cody would have shot him if he could, “that’s a little overkill don’t you think?” 

Cody sat up, glared at Wolffe through the screen. He was never going to get his work done, was he? “They were for  _ missions _ , osi’kovid, and yeah, some of them were on accident, but I don’t have time to go annulling every marriage do I? There’s a war on in case you forgot.” 

Wolffe shook his head and had the nerve, the absolute gall, to look at him like he was being dense. Him! As if he wasn’t the one there for every single one of those marriages!

“You really believe that, don’t you? Oh, my naive little brother. Listen, Cody, you know as well as I do how wiley these Jedi are. You really think that General of yours couldn’t have found a way to negotiate with all those different planets if he wanted to?” 

Cody shrugged. He’d thought about that somewhere around the seventh time it’d happened, but since General Kenobi treated it like it wasn’t a big deal, so did he. He was a Kamino bred clone; what did he know of marriage and its importance outside of what he was shown? Kenobi made it seem like it wasn’t important, just a silly thing some people did, so that’s how he treated it. Somehow, he didn’t think Wolffe thought the same, and it didn’t warrant arguing with his stubborn brother over, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“What other reason would he have then?” He asked. Wolffe smirked, and he knew that he had been waiting for this very question. 

“Any idiot can see the guy has a huge hard on for you, di’kut. He’s obviously trying to get closer to you however he can,” Wolffe said smugly, cybernetic eye gleaming with triumph when Cody began to choke.

“I think that eye is fucking with your brains,” Cody snapped once he’d regained control of himself. His face was hot, an uncomfortable blush creeping up his neck and ears and cheeks, and he’d never hated Wolffe more than he did in that moment. Oh, he was going to punch the ever living shit out of him first chance he got. 

Wolffe tapped his end of the screen, smirk deepening. “Just think about it. Weren’t you the one complaining in the group comm the other week about how he was flirting with you so much it was getting in the way of doing your work? How you’d had to come up with workarounds?”

“But he flirts with everyone,” Cody said helplessly. Fek, he had said that, with so much exasperated fondness Bly had teased that he must not actually mind the flirting all that much. 

“Ah, true, but not like he flirts with you. I’ve seen enough to know that much. I wonder why that is?” Wolffe disconnected the call before Cody could come up with a proper rebuttal. Bastard.

He flopped back on his bunk and closed his eyes. Beneath him, he could feel the gentle hum of the cruiser’s engines propelling them through hyperspace and to their next assignment. It was supposed to be an easy one: a follow up to negotiations they’d done a month prior. He’d married the General on that occasion, a sweet little ceremony held in a gazebo draped by vines heavy with fruit. Waxer cried through the whole thing, the big baby. Maybe, if he just closed his eyes and pretended that none of this was happening, when he woke up it would be true. Beside him, his comm started to gently chime with another incoming call. Sighing he picked it up to see who it was. Rex.

Fek. He wasn’t answering that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:  
> di'kut: idiot  
> osi'kovid: shithead


End file.
